


Compassionate Pragmatism

by FirebreathFishslap



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: DeSu Secret Santa 2016, Gen, Pre-Canon, Triangulum Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9084709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirebreathFishslap/pseuds/FirebreathFishslap
Summary: In the world of the Triangulum invasion, Makoto Sako is invited to join JP's, and struggles with how she feels about the organization's cryptic, pragmatic leader.
Written for DeSu Secret Santa 2016.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my Devil Survivor Secret Santa gift for minegishikazuya on Tumblr, for her wish of “Anything Miyako-centric.” I originally planned on going with the request for Miyako/Alcor stuff instead, but the idea I had ended up not panning out very well.
> 
> Disclaimer: I actually haven’t sat down and played Devil Survivor 2 in about a year now, and I only ever actually cleared Triangulum once. So… a lot of this fic was informed by Youtube and Megami Tensei Wiki. Hopefully everyone’s still pretty in character despite this!

The first time Miyako Hotsuin came to Makoto, Makoto was still working as a synchronized swimmer. The first glimpse Miyako got of her was when she bobbed her head up above the water and saw the woman in her long black coat, flanked by two men in yellow suits. When Makoto bobbed her head up again, the woman was talking to their coach in hushed tones. She dove down again, twisting through the routine, when the ear-splitting sound of the coach’s whistle rumbled through the water.

The team surfaced, and Makoto pulled her goggles up over her head as the coach began to talk, and she noticed that the woman who’d entered was looking right at her before she heard the coach’s words.

“Sako! There’s some people here to talk with you!” she said. Makoto nodded and quickly swam to the edge, and she pulled herself up onto the concrete. She frowned as she approached the group of three. The uniforms didn’t look familiar, and neither did the woman before her. As she approached her, Makoto realized that whoever this woman was, she was far younger than Makoto herself. Practically a child in comparison.

“Makoto Sako, correct?” the girl said, smiling softly. It didn’t match the rest of her face, and Makoto had to wonder just how sincere it was. “We should speak about this privately.”

She only had time to towel off as they walked into the locker room, trailing behind the girl’s coat strings. Her boots clacked against the tile monotonously, in carefully measured steps that suggested a much more proper upbringing than Makoto’s own.

She asked Makoto to take a seat once they entered the locker room, and Makoto placed her towel under her before sitting down on the bench. And then, much to Makoto’s surprise, Miyako also sat down next to her.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the girl said. “I am Miyako Hotsuin, chief of the Japan Meteorological Agency, Geomagnetism Research Department. You can call us ‘Jips’’ for short.”

“Jips…?” Makoto repeated, frowning.

“Spelled ‘JP-apostrophe-S’,” Miyako continued. “As far as most of the country is concerned, we’re a research division responsible for researching geomagnetism and similar phenomenon. In truth, we’re an integral part of Japan’s national defense.” She lifted a gloved hand and tapped the back of it against one of her bodyguards’ thighs. They handed her a small stack of papers, and Miyako tapped them against her thigh to straighten them out. “Ms. Sako, you were involved in several humanitarian programs in high school and college. Several associates of yours have noted your willingness to help others. In fact, many of them were surprised that you chose not to become a police officer and instead followed the path of a synchronized swimmer.”

She stared up at Makoto, and she was struck by how cold her expression was. It didn’t fit someone with a face so young. Makoto felt a shiver run down her back, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold air against her wet skin, or if it was because she felt like she was being stared through. She suddenly wished she was more dressed than she was.

“I’m sorry, but what is this all about?” Makoto asked. The girl before her didn’t answer immediately, just shuffled her papers together and handed them back to her crony. And then she folded her gloved hands in her lap and looked directly up into Makoto’s eyes.

“Allow me to get to the point, then. Ms. Sako, would you like to help people?”

* * *

 In the months following her introduction to JP’s, Makoto had learned much about the group that she’d entered. How it was responsible for maintaining the spiritual seals all around Japan, how the group had been borne out of the Hotsuin family’s ancestral duties as guardians of the government, and how she (and much of the rest of JP’s personnel) had been scouted for their spiritual ability. There were rumors that the recent upswing in personnel hiring was because something big was on the horizon, but nothing was ever said for sure.

Supposedly, Miyako’s family home was somewhere in Osaka, but Makoto had never seen anything to suggest that Miyako ever slept outside the headquarters in Tokyo. Nor did she see anything to suggest that she was attending school; as far as she could tell, the Chief lived and learned all within the headquarters itself. Presumably she was being tutored, but Makoto never saw one come or go from the location. She saw their chief often during briefings, and she was quick to give orders, but not so quick to give explanation. Many a time, Makoto had asked for explanation only to be quickly rebuffed.

Their assignments were rarely major. Maintenance on seals around the country, the occasional exorcism. But sometimes something major would actually spring up, and it was up to JP’s to move in, take care of it, and cover it up. And when these incidents would happen, Miyako was always there on the front lines alongside the rest of them.

* * *

The mission to Aokigahara had been a success, but at a great cost.

It had been a simple demon extermination operation, but when demons stronger than expected had shown up, they’d had to force a retreat until a group more specialized for their threat arrived. One platoon had acted as decoy to allow the others to retreat. Most of that platoon hadn’t made it back alive.

It didn’t sit well with Makoto. This was not war, they were not chess pieces. This had just been a clean-up operation. And it had ended in casualties.

She found Miyako in the headquarters’ library, sitting at one end of a long table with what seemed to be a mountain of paperwork around her. This wasn’t the first time Makoto had seen her down here, despite the fact that she easily could have finished with less distraction had she decided to work in her own office instead. However, there was no one else in the library today. A rarity. Makoto gulped, and then began to walk across the hall toward her, running over her practiced objection in her mind.

“Chief Hotsuin,” she said, raising her voice ever so slightly. Miyako’s head raised, and she turned to look toward Makoto.

“This is a rarity,” she said. She put her pen down, and she stood from her chair. “You look like you have something to say.”

Makoto gulped. No going back.

“During the operation at Aokigahara, in order to cover our retreat, Platoon B was asked to run decoy. The majority of that platoon was wiped out while the remainder of our force fled. You were the one who gave that order.”

“I was.” Miyako crossed her arms, looking stern. “You draw issue with this?”

“I don’t believe Platoon B’s sacrifice was necessary,” Makoto said. Breathe. She could do this. “If the remainder of the group had helped to defeat the enemy force, no one would have had to die.”

“I see your point. But I disagree,” Miyako said. “If our group, as it was composed at the time, had attempted to fight those demons, it would have ended in pointless casualties. The fact that a specialized group had to be called to the front lines in the first place points to that. Had the group retreated as a whole, the stragglers would have been picked off. It was necessary for someone to run interference to ensure that the majority of the group could escape.”

“Maybe that would be the case, but you didn’t even hesitate to make the order. I’m still not convinced, Chief Hotsuin,” Makoto said. She’d worked the jitters out of her voice. If she was to make her point, she had to stay steady.

Miyako turned away from Makoto. She pulled her arms close to her, and she squeezed her arm with one hand. Her expression was surprisingly vulnerable. It didn’t match the cold eyes that she typically wore.

“Perhaps you’re right. But ultimately, I chose the path I felt would lead to the greatest rate of survival,” she said. She looked toward Makoto, and the cold eyes were back. Makoto flinched a little under their gaze, but she held her ground. “There’s nothing that can be gained in this world without sacrifice, Sako. If we are to be placed into a situation where there’s no choice but that, then the path that leads to smaller sacrifice is the greater. There is nothing more to it.”

There was nothing more Makoto could say to that. She could tell there was no convincing Miyako today. Maybe not ever. It made her skin crawl to think that -- how many more times would she have to make a decision that went against her morals so strongly?

Miyako narrowed her eyes, scowled, and then sat back down at the end of the table. She didn’t look back at Makoto as she spoke again.

“You’re dismissed, Sako.”

* * *

The seal had broken so suddenly, there hadn’t been time to properly mobilize. It had been old and long neglected, and most importantly, had not been on their documentation, meaning that no one had realized that it was quickly approaching its strain point. When the demon burst free, it had been a veritable shitshow.

Thankfully, it had been during the middle of the week, while people were still in work and not on their commute, and thankfully, there hadn’t been too many people in the graveyard. It had been easy to evacuate the surrounding area. They were supposed to be free to do whatever was necessary to combat the towering presence of evil spirits above them.

But it was never that easy.

It was the sound of a child’s cry that distracted Makoto, and she swung her head around, searching for the source of the voice. She found it quickly enough: the small yellow hat peeking out from behind a gravestone. _This area was supposed to be evacuated!_ she thought, panicked.

Her eyes snapped up to the demon. And then to the child.

And then Makoto did something her training had hammered into her to never do: she made a mad dash for the child. “Cover me!” she yelled over the objections of her squad-mates as she ran.

The demon raised its claw. Makoto sprung forward on the ball of her foot, lifting off the ground for a moment. Her arms wrapped around the kid. The claw came down, and tore right through her back.

She tumbled forward, the small body pulled close to her, trying her best to ignore the searing pain in her back. She lifted herself up off the kid, mouth opened to try and reassure him, but the words died in her throat the moment she saw his tear stained face, and in the end, all she got out was a sharp “Go!”

He scrambled out from under her, and she heard the demon’s snarl.

Her vision was getting blurry, her stomach was churning; there was poison in those claws, no doubt. But like _hell_ she was going to let it take one step forward. She pulled her phone up, holding it up as it began to glow. If she was going to die anyways, then she might as well take it with her--

“Sako!”

A blast of fire exploded out around the demon. A massive shadow jumped in front of her, swinging its scaled tail back and forth. Makoto’s eyes widened. She’d seen that before -- Cerberus. Miyako Hotsuin’s personal demon.

Clack, clack, clack, clack.

The monotonous sound of boot heels against brick answered the question Makoto didn’t even have time to ask. Her black coat billowed out behind her lazily, with no concern to the situation she’d just walked into. Her back was turned to Makoto; she couldn’t see her face. Just that tall back, and those fists clenched around her sword.

“Burn.”

A maelstrom of flame rose up around the demon. A loud, earsplitting screech rang through the graveyard, getting dimmer and dimmer as Makoto felt herself fading. The heat was intense, but it wasn’t enough to keep her awake.

The flames burnt to cinders in seconds, and the demon was gone. Clack, clack, fwump. Miyako whirled around and suddenly crouched next to Makoto, her coat meeting the ground audibly as it slipped from her shoulders.

“Sako! It is not your time to die!”

“Chief…” Makoto muttered. She felt her shoulders be shaken.

“Stay with me! Sako! Sako!”

Quietly, Makoto faded into unconsciousness.

* * *

 The sound of soft beeping welcomed Makoto back to consciousness. She blinked once, twice, three times, before the blur in her eyes faded. Blinding white lights stared down at her, and numbly, she could feel something in her arm.

She looked down. That much was familiar. She had an IV in her arm.

Oh, she was alive.

It was that casual a realization. Just a thought of dull surprise. Thinking back, that had been dumb of her. She could have been killed.

She suddenly shot up, eyes wide. Oh crap, the kid!

The moment she had that thought, a sharp pain jolted through her shoulder, and she grasped at it, wincing. A blond haired nurse stepped out from behind the curtain, frowning at her.

“You shouldn’t move around so much, you know. There’s only so much magic can do for wounds. Your body still has to do all of the hard work on its own. It was touch and go for a while there, too,” she said, putting her tray down on a counter against the wall. Oh, this was the Nagoya branch’s nurse. Yanagiya, her name was? But then she turned toward Makoto, frowning deeply. “But, I suppose that’s your punishment for being so reckless.”

“I’m sorry,” Makoto said, bowing her head. But then the nurse just giggled and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh, I’m just teasing. You did a good thing out there, Mako-chan, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. That boy was very grateful for your help, too,” Yanagiya said. She picked her tray up and walked behind the curtain again. Makoto sighed and leaned back into her cot again.

The sound of a door sliding open from the other end of the room caught her attention, and she turned her head toward it.

“Yanagiya, how is she?”

Makoto blinked. That was the Chief’s voice…

“She just woke up, if you want to speak with her. Might be a little groggy from the anaesthetic, though.”

And then, boot heels against tile. Clack clack clack… until Miyako Hotsuin peeked her head around the curtain. As she stepped up to the cot, Makoto sat up. She closed her eyes, fully expecting a scolding.

“Thank goodness…” said Miyako instead.

Makoto snapped her eyes open, and she turned toward Miyako to see an uncharacteristically soft smile on her face. And then she blinked, and it was gone.

“It’s been a week since the operation,” she said. “You’ve been out that whole time.”

“You were there in the cemetery…” Makoto said. She shook her head. “Why did you jump in? I thought…”

_I thought you preferred to take the path that would lead to fewer sacrifices. You could have been killed too._

A silence hung over the room in the wake of Makoto’s words. She hadn’t been able to finish the sentence. Miyako wasn’t meeting her eye.

Makoto bit her lip. Finally, she bowed her head. “Thank you for rescuing me,” she said. “I’m certain I’ve been a burden on everyone since then. More than that, I disobeyed orders and charged in, and placed you in danger in the process. If you hadn’t rescued me, both me and the child I endangered myself to rescue would have been killed. If I’m to be discharged for my actions, then I will accept--”

“Sako, stop.”

Makoto’s mouth snapped closed, and she turned toward Miyako.

“I don’t like to make a habit of watching my subordinates die,” she said softly. “That’s all.”

But she wasn’t meeting Makoto’s gaze. There was something unsaid there, and Makoto knew they just weren’t close enough that she could work it out of her. She just didn’t know what buttons to push… nor was she willing to, if she was perfectly honest. It wasn’t her place to inquire. It was clear enough that the Chief was carrying a great burden on her back.

Reluctantly, Makoto decided to drop it. Her gaze fell, and as it did, she found herself looking at Miyako herself. Not her face, but her attire. She frowned, and then looked back up at Miyako.

“...May I ask a question?” Makoto asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you wear a dress as part of your uniform?” she asked.

For a moment, Makoto expected Miyako to be flustered, or maybe even angry about the question, but all she got in response was a confident smile. She tugged up on her leggings, pulling a wrinkle out of them. “If I don’t dress as if I’m a woman, then my superiors are far too quick to forget I _am_ one. I suspect they would have preferred a man in my position; I make them far too nervous as is without taking my gender into account. But my parents did not produce a male heir, and I have more than proven myself at this point. Whether the Diet likes it or not, I am here to stay.”

“I see. My apologies for assuming.”

“Ah,” Miyako said. “You were under the impression that someone had mandated this uniform, weren’t you?” She chuckled. “No, it’s merely my own personal style. There’s no need to worry at all on that front.”

Makoto smiled, and she let herself laugh a little at that. So the Chief had a bit of adolescence in her after all…

“You’re really quite compassionate.”

The comment caught Makoto off guard, and she turned back toward Miyako, blinking. It wasn’t clear if Miyako had noticed the confusion, because she just continued speaking.

“It’s clear to me that your humanitarian background wasn’t out of some misguided sense of self-importance. You truly do care about those around you, and you’re not so pragmatic as to let those around you sacrifice themselves for your sake. That… may be an ability I lost long ago. I think that… I could use someone who could remind me of the value of compassion over pragmatism.”

Suddenly, Miyako took a seat on the edge of Makoto’s cot, and she turned to look at her. The situation was suddenly very familiar; she was reminded of when she first met Miyako, the girl sitting down right next to her, the two turned to look at each other, and the expectant look in the younger girl’s eyes.

“Ms. Sako, would you like to become my direct subordinate?”

Makoto felt her bandages, and she looked up into Miyako’s eyes. There were a million answers to that she could have given, but only one answer felt right.

“I would be honored.”


End file.
